Past Us Present You
by pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin were once friends, best friends in fact, the occurrence of this was in itself an anomaly when how it all began was analysed. Now things are much more complicated, stilted and repressed. The story of them is told through the unlikely friendship of one Bellamy Blake and Rav Reyes, as both embark on a seemingly harmless pastime. Nothing is harmless.
1. Chapter 1

**Now**

* * *

Oh god it felt good... Bellamy Blake was a good kisser; he had the uncanny ability to be able to wipe away the slightest bit of tension with just the brush of his lips. This rather attractive talent followed through to his ability to fuck well too, yes it was a crude way of putting it but if she was completely honest there was no other way to put it. Raven and Bellamy were fuck buddies and had been ever since her relationship with Finn had gone tits up, and Bellamy had offered some solace in one night of passionate, no-strings attached sex. Despite the promise of it being merely a onetime thing inadvertently they hadn't kept to that rule, because in all honesty they were just too good together. The phrase 'together' however was not to be confused with the assumed status of a relationship that they certainly were not. Their friendship was something that was occupied by frequent teasing, sarcastic comments and occasional harmless tiffs over ridiculous topics. Physically they had struck a chord, and neither of them had the heart to let that go to waste, so overwhelmed by the symphony that their bodies entwined together they fully endorsed the concept of fuck buddies.

In the immediate aftermath of their coitus he lavished languid kisses along her neck, his lower lip gliding along the slight dips that embellished her elegant neck. The air held the distant gasps and moans that exuded a fulfilled satisfaction, the atmosphere seemingly heavy with a rich contentment. Bellamy finally managed to pull himself away from her, rolling over to occupy the side of the bed that was currently his, before he carded his fingers through his dark tousled curls. Raven too mirrored his action as she pushed away the wayward tendrils of her brunette locks with her fingers, allowing herself to release a deep sigh which sank her further into the sheets. God they were good, and glancing across at him the dazed expression that painted his features proved that he too thought the same. At that she raised her palm up to him, an offering to celebrate a bit of sex well done, one of which he adhered to as he high fived her. Both grinned with amusement with slight gasped chuckles indicating that the general consensus they were both massive dorks was one they shared. Ravens' rich luscious voice permeated the moment,

"So you coming out tomorrow night? Or are you going to use the lame excuse of 'I need to mark my student's papers'?" A snort came forth from Bellamy before he earnestly replied,

"That's not an excuse it's the truth!" Moving onto her side to address him, the sheets followed her long limbs twisting and tangling around them, their soft touch caressing her smooth bronzed skin as she tucked her hand underneath her chin,

"Well it's lame Blake, you somehow have friends who actually want to see you. I mean I don't understand it personally but you know each to their own." He rolled his eyes however he could not hide the two dimples that became at the corner of his lips, a clear show that he was in fact amused by her teasing jibe before he answered,

"Those people have great taste." At that minor victory he started to shuffle up from underneath the meagre amount of sheet that had been draped across him, his eyes seeked out his mobile which occupied the bedside cabinet. A huff of amusement released from Raven before she rolled back to her original post-coital position, before she replied,

"That I can't dispute... crap." The realisation that if she did she'd be saying that their choice to be friends with her was also a poor decision was something she wasn't willing to endorse. Bellamy again wore a slight smile that portrayed the victorious pleasure he felt at the dead end she'd walked herself into, as he glanced at the time on his phone. This observation soon dispelled the triumphant expression he wore, as he scrabbled from the bed grasping desperately for his clothes which were strewn liberally upon the floor. Simultaneously a number of curses fell eloquently from his lips,

"Shit, shit, shit... FUCK!" Raven herself had also sought out her mobile as she scrolled through her facebook feed, before she stated, without removing her gaze from the screen of her phone,

"Late again?" By now Bellamy had pulled on his boxers, had his trousers on and was about to do up his fly as he answered her in a flustered manner,

"Yep... dinner with O and Lincoln... ow shit!" In the flurry of urgency that he had launched into he'd stubbed his toe, although on the plus side he'd finally found his shirt and socks. It was no secret to anyone that Bellamy had a rather hard time coping with the fact his little sister was dating and now living with an older man. On Bellamy discovering the truth of the relationship Raven had found no cause to complain, because if she remembered rightly it had instigated a rather impressive night of fucking, one of which she had truly appreciated. With this shard of knowledge she quipped in sarcasm,

"Sounds fun." Despite the rapid speed he had been blundering around her room, this comment seemingly warranted enough time for him to pause and glare at her, before he pulled on his shoes and sped away. As he left he finally addressed her previous question,

"See you tomorrow night." With that he was gone, and that was a prime example of the well oiled machine of casual fuckery they had endorsed. No one else knew of their arrangement because heaven forbid they did a whole barrage of questions, enquiries and jokes would roll their way and in all honesty neither of them wanted that. But then if they looked ahead to what was to be, they probably would have conceded that they didn't want that either. **Hindsight's a bitch like that.**


	2. Chapter 2

**She**

* * *

Bellamy strolled in long after everyone else had arrived, he looked tired and slightly aggravated although that had become a rather usual expression for him to wear. Raven was well on her way to getting incredibly drunk, as she and the rest of their merry crew had gone full out with the number of shots they were downing.

As Bellamy approached he eyed the newest member of their gang warily, his eyes flickered between the slim and rather scary looking brunette and Clarke. Both were stood close together in a manner that displayed a comfort beyond that of mere friendship, an observation that was further cemented by the way the brunette laced her fingers within Clarkes. Bellamy himself hadn't seen Clarke looking so radiant and well... happy in a long while, but as much as he was glad for her he simultaneously couldn't ignore the heavy weight pressing uncomfortably against chest that indicated that something wasn't quite right.

O had informed him that Clarke was bringing her new girlfriend, Lexa, to their gathering but to now see it in reality... he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. He had hoped that after the many shots and beers he consumed within the next hour the feeling would soon lift, and the temporary carefree joy at being surrounded by good company would soon kick in. It did and it also didn't.

Clarke and Lexa were decidedly embracing the honeymoon period that their relationship was in, as both women stayed pretty much attached to each other all night. Something that didn't go unnoticed, as Bellamy sat hunched over the bar cradling his umpteenth beer of the night, Clarke placed herself beside him waiting to be served. Bellamy couldn't resist the opportunity, the words tumbled from his mouth with the same ease as the thought of them had came,

"Managed to tear yourself away then?" Clarke had caught the eye of the bartender, who glanced back and mouthed 'One moment' to let her know she'd be next, before she turned towards him,

"What's that suppose to mean?" Bellamy straightened himself up, an action that on reflection wasn't the best idea as it sent his head spinning and how he managed to stay on the stool he didn't quite know. With a half hearted chuckle that indicated heavily his disbelief in her ability to feign not knowing she was pretty much glued to her other half, he spat venomously,

"Wow Princess love really does make you stupid." Clarke rolled her eyes heavily in response, her jaw jutted forward, dead set in a show of suppressed irritation, before she tilted her body towards him and jabbed,

"Because you'd know what that was like?" The bartender had now reached Clarke and as she politely made her order, Bellamy slowly sipped the remainder of his beer allowing the weight of her words to rest painfully upon him. She was right he didn't know. He'd been involved with a few women, had engaged with some sort of thing that you might label a 'relationship' but it never felt... right. In all honesty he never truly felt himself, he always felt the unbridled pressure of having to live up to the expectations of what he should be as a 'boyfriend' and falling into the role of that had become a deception not only to them, but to himself. At that thought a rough and drunkenly mumbled bark of resentment fell too easily from his lips,

"Fuck you." He didn't even look at her, he couldn't and in all honesty he didn't know whether the percentage of alcohol in his system would have allowed his vision enough clarity to be able to. He was pissed and pissed off, and it wasn't all to be directed at Clarke because he was pissed off at himself too... A lot more. He staggered away from the bar and the woman who had orchestrated his decline into infinite drunkenness and self-deprecation, allowing every fuck he had ever given to fall away into the numb void he could feel engulfing him. **That's the last thing he could remember... perhaps for good reason too.**


	3. Chapter 3

**That**

* * *

On awakening all Bellamy could feel was the violent thudding that resounded within his head, a feeling very much akin to what he would imagine a sledgehammer to the brain would be like. On opening his eyes he squinted against the harsh light of day before he observed that he was indeed at Raven's house, in Raven's bedroom... but surely in his state they couldn't have... On proper investigation of his current place of rest he found he was in fact on the floor and still dressed in all his clothes from the night before, with that mystery answered he was now wondering why he was in fact there. The hard fought battle for recollection of all that had come to pass last night was interrupted by the familiar quip of none other than Raven herself,

"Morning beautiful."

Her face loomed over him as she leant over the end of her bed to observe the crumpled and decrepit form that was him, her features sported a vicious smirk however her eyes held a look of pity. That in itself elicited his body to further curl into itself, already he lay in a somewhat foetal position, one of which savoured strongly of protection, familiarity and comfort. He had a feeling he needed that right now. As he spoke he winced at the painful rough rasp that emanated from his every word,

"What the hell happened last night?" Raven's reply lacked the usual sharp vigour her teasing and conversation with him usually held, instead her words seemed softer, safer with a little less bite. He was right, something had happened, something bad,

"You my friend were a first class prick, I mean I knew you had it in you, but you were spectacular. An Oscar worthy performance even Finn would have had trouble to match let alone DiCaprio." A wince pinched at Bellamy's features, causing him to flinch ever so slightly, because to be compared to that man was something Bellamy wasn't sure he could take. The one and only pretentious, cheating and conniving Finn Collins had at one time been considered the love of Raven's life, his continued presence and companionship had anchored him to her in a way she could never had imagined. She loved him irrecoverably, and in doing so she had believed that he too felt the same. Au contraire. A small break away to visit the man she so prized had been cut abruptly short by the arrival of none other than Clarke Griffin... the other woman. Both were wounded deeply, their hearts bruised and spoiled by the betrayal of someone they had both loved and adored. The quality of the two as human beings far outweighed the conceit and pretence their shared lover had shown, and together they moved on and found new beginnings within the friendship they found together. To be compared to him was an insult of the deepest kind, and Bellamy kind of wondered whether she already knew the blow that sort of remark would inflict. To dismiss the wound inflicted by such a cruel comparison he chose to ignore it, as he croaked within a feeble cough,

"More details would be good." The effort to exact himself from the crumpled and slumped position he had been laid in released a throbbing throughout his body, some areas ached more than others, whilst within his gut he felt the liquids of last night swish and swirl uncomfortably. Whilst he unfolded his stiff and tender limbs, Raven continued to explain, her statement exact, final,

"You and Clarke fell out... big time." Immediately he felt a kind of panic consume him, inducing a dull ache within his gut that was nothing to do with the alcohol he had consumed before. No this was something far greater than that, an apprehension and unease that ravaged his body fully, inducing him to aggressively bark,

"About what?" His rather stark response was ignored, she'd for a long time dealt with men who portrayed some sort of emotional constipation although under certain circumstances managed to become emotionally viable. A rather bewildering and exhausting individual to deal with, so to let it slide had become a regular plan of action, as she continued to explain, her tone clear and concise,

"Well I think it started with you making a comment about her and Lexa, and ended with Clarke yelling at you and saying you were a 'heartless insensitive dick with a massive chip on your shoulder' as she held back her girlfriend from kicking your ass." Now sat upright his shoulders slumped with the weight of realisation, as he combed his fingers through his unruly curls his mind started to reconstruct certain moments and images, fractions of a drunken and sullen man let loose,

"Shit." Raven was not one to mince her words, it had become a certain characteristic that many a person either found entirely endearing or moderately horrific, either way those close to her prized it as a virtue. Bellamy on this occasion found himself to be stuck between two minds, for one he needed to hear the truth of what had happened, but equally he wasn't sure he wanted to. It didn't matter what he wanted, she was going to anyway because it was what he needed,

"Yep definitely shit... O is pretty pissed at you too." A groan emanated from his lips as he clenched his eyes shut, god he just wanted his head to stop pounding and the reality of the night before to evaporate from his conscience. His current location did bring back the question of why he was in fact here, and with that thought he bestowed his gaze back on Raven before asking with intrigue,

"So were you the only one who wasn't pissed at me?" Her reply held the sharp sarcasm that he was so used to being on the end of, but nothing seemed to shift the sympathy that had seated itself deep within her eyes,

"No but I was the least drunk out of the people not angry at you so I had the privilege of you crashing here. I'm so lucky." His head slumped in defeat, his chin rested upon his chest as he mumbled,

"I'm sorry." The gentle pity that had only been held within her gaze now bled into her features, long gone was the dismissive, bold and familiar smirk, now she featured an expression of care and concern as she softly stated,

"I don't think I'm the first person you should say that to do you?" She was right, of course she was, but with the vicious remnants of his drunken slurs returning to him he wasn't sure whether that person would want to see him now. The delicate state of their relationship had left what once had been a solid and strong friendship fragile and frail, dangerously close to extinction. He didn't want it, he never wanted it yet it seemed the inevitable was coming closer and closer, and it was entirely of his doing. **His fault, his mess, his feelings.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Them**

* * *

Already he had dealt with what could have only been described as a rather colourful and brutal lecture from his own sister, followed by an appropriately cold reception at Clarke's apartment from Lexa herself. In all honesty he was rather surprised he managed to leave his encounter with the latter un-scathed, although he was pretty sure she was throttling him in her mind. He wouldn't blame her. Now it was time to face the music, to try and tether back together the broken pieces of a friendship he wasn't prepared to let go of yet. She was Clarke, with her she held far too many fond memories those of which he didn't wish to lace with melancholy, or the hurt of a time and woman long lost.

Despite Lexa's rightful refusal to inform him of Clarke's whereabouts, he knew her far too well to have no idea as to where she was. On entering the art studio situated at her university, he found himself met with the view of none other than Clarke herself, or at least the back of her.

Perched on a stool her rough golden tresses were pulled up into a messy bun, an obligatory pencil held within it, allowing the odd curling tendril to fall free down her back. Hunched over a table she was clearly lost to her work, the soft symphony of her music filling the vast and otherwise empty room with some semblance of company. His footsteps however seemed to cause some interruption, one of which he noted within the tension that suddenly sprung upon Clarke's spine, her rigid and hard posture clear for him to see. It was apparent that she now knew of his presence; however her refusal to acknowledge it pretty much confirmed to Bellamy that he was, as predicted, not wanted. That came as no shock, but the empty void that now consumed his mind where a prepared speech once was, complete with an apology, did knock the wind out of him. Words weren't enough really.

The silence stretched out for far too long before Clarke pulled herself upright, her head tilted up from its previous occupation before she turned to face him. Despite it only being a mere few days, he felt as if he had not seen her for many years, her features and complexion starting to become a distant memory he struggled to recollect. Then again it could have been the inklings of guilt and the somewhat ridiculous conclusion that perhaps he should just forget, forget her, forget their friendship... hell that last one had started to become an actual reality.

The expression upon her face gave nothing away; her indifference was so severe that the truth of it had already scorched his mind, a vision he was sure would forever remind him that to be dangerously drunk and bitter was a dire combination. Despite the passive form her features had attained, past the hardened stare there lay something that screamed disappointment, hurt and rage. Under its inspection he found his feet shuffled, gliding in a manner of satisfaction against the smooth lino, whilst his fingers fiddled relentlessly with the inside lining of his jacket pockets. It's too much, he'd said too much and she'd heard too much to come back from now, and just as he felt the inclination that he should leave return; she allowed her head to fall. Her gaze broken from his, she muttered helplessly into the space between them, equally in want of an answer and not,

"What happened to us?" The urge to shrug and say he doesn't know begs to be, but then he'd be lying and he'd already dealt out so much verbal bullshit that he doesn't think he could do it again. He knows exactly the point on which their friendship changed, where their comfortable ease and affectionate jesting was replaced by sharp jibes and crippling tension. Acknowledging that however was another matter of which he wished to leave untouched, and so he remained silent, a frown embellished upon his lips and his gaze downcast in shame. Her voice was low, tense but steady as she continued on,

"How did we get to here? To arguments and awkward silences? That... that wasn't us Bellamy. I can't take it much more." Truthfully he can't either; he can't face the discomfort that has somehow wound its way around them, tying with it an avoidance and unease that directly fell upon her, upon them. It wasn't what he wanted but to come back from that was something he didn't know how to do or if he even could. Within his gut a tension coiled and tightened a desperation that earnestly wished for her not to leave, not to go and leave him alone. She can't and with that thought his voice finally presented itself,

"Clarke... I..." Before he could continue however the door of the studio opened revealing Wells, the childhood best friend of Clarke herself, his brow furrowed and pinched in concern. His gaze flickered between Bellamy and Clarke as he asked,

"Everything okay here?" The hard angles and defined edges that shaped her features momentarily gave way, allowing the soft furl of her lips to produce an assuring smile, as she replied calmly,

"Everything's fine." As if not quite believing of her, Wells allowed his intense gaze to flit once more between the two, lingering slightly longer on Bellamy himself before he left. The silence came forth once again, falling upon them like a dense fog it seems to lie in wait for the next storm they could very easily bring. Now however the fight was gone, instead there was a longing for what once was, a wish to return to the days when the pair were... better, happier and content. Before he knew it the question that had patiently awaited it's time, fell from his lips,

"Can we be fine?" A hesitant touch of hope shaped her features before it was struck hard by the nature of reality, the stark truth that their current situation was perched on shaky grounds. Everything balanced precariously upon the memories of their past, mapped out with numerous moments of precious care and affection, those too were now fragile. The delicate being of them coerced her to throw the accountability of their future to him, not that he could blame her for doing so, as she responded,

"You tell me." He wanted to say with absolute confidence that yes they could be fine, yes they could let recent happenings that had soured them so fall away. But that would be a lie. Beheld by her bright azure eyes, the stillness in which they be held him made sure that no falsehood would dare cross his lips. Instead a hopeless hush of words fell into the chasm that now lay between them, their existence echoed painfully against the walls that seemingly divided them so,

"I don't know." **The truth.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Then**

* * *

The transition into impending adulthood did not come without its many downfalls, one being a severe cut to the amount of time Raven spent with her respective friends. For once however it seemed that the busy timetable that was their lives allowed Raven, Octavia and Clarke a united day of freedom to catch up. This specific day involved a yoga session, provided of course by the qualified and proficient teacher that was Octavia, although there seemed to be more giggling and teasing than actual exercise. Raven and Clarke hopelessly attempted to recreate the elegant and strong poses that Octavia exhibited so easily, however the playful shoves between them often halted their efforts. Soon enough their teacher bestowed upon them a rather weak scolding which resulted in a pile on, followed by a collapsed heap of limbs. Their energetic and delightful laughs embellished the air, their enjoyment clear to see if their beaming grins were anything to go by.

Exhausted by a morning of ...some exercise and excessive hilarity, they moved onto the health bar down the road where they each indulged in a delicious smoothie. Perched around a table outside in the sun, they all basked in the warmth of the early afternoon where equally they savoured the pleasant company beheld by each other. As Raven pushed her sunglasses back up her nose and took a refreshing sip of her drink, she glanced towards Clarke before she asked casually,

"So how's your sickening paradise?" Clarke's fingertips pinched around her straw as she stirred her beverage with it, before she replied through a gentle smirk,

"Is that you're way of asking about my relationship?" The manner in which Raven tilted her head and the way her eyebrows raised upon her forehead indicated that it was indeed her way. An amused smile swept upon Clarke's features as she released her straw and sat back in her seat, a ghost of a sigh passed through her lips before she answered wearily,

"Things are... fine. After last week's drama I think we're finally just letting it go... at least I am anyway." Her last statement was accompanied with a shrug of her shoulders, as she averted her gaze to across the street. The nature of the shrug held the air of nonchalance, however the stern line of her jaw and the way her lips pursed tight indicated that some tension still lay there. Everything was not fine. Octavia dropped her head, guilt written over every single beautifully carved feature she possessed, as she muttered ashamedly,

"I apologise on behalf of my ass hole of a brother." Sincerity and sympathy resonated within her voice, and seemingly Clarke appreciated it as the edge of her lips quirked into a fleeting smile, before she replied passively,

"You don't have to apologise for him O... He's... He made his decision." Again her gaze flickered elsewhere, the desire to hide the hurt and vulnerability seated there clear for Raven to see. Incidents like this always called for Raven, her ability to lift even the most stubborn tension was once that her friends all greatly admired and appreciated. Within the awkward voids that weighed heavy on those who were troubled, she managed to seek out the right words, and the right tone to help ease the pain. As predicted and required she did so, her tone warm with jest but still holding the underlying tune of much needed truth,

"I'm sure he'll realise soon enough what a fuck-wit he's been. Hell everyone else realised, it shouldn't take him too long." A soft chuckle slipped easily from her Clarke's lips, a mix of amusement and possibly agreement at her dear friend's statement. Octavia laughed too for she felt her brother fully deserved every word of ridicule that came his way, hell she'd already dished out enough to him but a little more would do no harm. Clarke took her straw between her lips, the vibrant green liquid sped up the plastic tube and into her mouth before she stated,

"Here's hoping." A beat of silence passed between all of them, its presence holding the essence of contemplation and forethought as they all languidly drank their beverages. A refreshing breeze swirled between them, the tendrils of their hair caught in the wind causing them to sweep and wander across their shoulders. Octavia glanced towards Clarke, an expression of intrigue and intent painted upon her sharp features, before she asked,

"Can I ask you what happened with you and Bell? You went from best friends to... Well this." Unable to hide her surprise, Raven gasped, a visible raised eyebrow arched over the top of her sunglasses as she exclaimed,

"You two were best friends?" Clarke nodded in affirmation of her friend's question, her fingers tapped out a somewhat random rhythm against the plastic of her drinks cup, as she answered somewhat hesitantly,

"Yeah before the whole Finn thing." Wit and sarcasm were Raven's favourite remedies, and thank God her friends equally thought so too, as she quipped,

"Wow did people also believe the world was a cube?" A more definite show of a smile graced Clarke's features this time, as she playfully smacked the back of her hand against Raven's arm, as the victim herself exclaimed animatedly,

"What? Seriously, you two are... well far from friendly so excuse me for thinking it impossible." Clarke wore the wistful look of fondness well; the smooth curve of her lips, neither a beaming grin nor a severe line of indifference, and the hopeful glitter within her crystal blue eyes portrayed the delight she found in the memories of what once was. Her voice was distant and hushed, her words lost within the reverie of a past friendship,

"Well we were once." As Octavia scraped at the remnants of the smoothie within her cup with her straw, she remarked,

"They were inseparable it was ridiculous." Melancholy graced Clarke's features, before she allowed her gaze to fall back upon her friends, back to the here and now where things were different. Hushed beneath the hum drum of the world that surrounded her, she stated,

"Things change I guess." The empty lines left by those words spoke louder than Clarke had probably anticipated, the spaces of nothing communicated to Raven that there was indeed something missing, something more, something even Clarke did not know of. The clearly fractured image of what once was a friendship of strength between Clarke and Bellamy, held within it that something, that absent piece that explained how everything went to shit. Raven had the feeling there was something more, something they're all missing, something a certain Bellamy may know. **She wants to know too.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Ask**

* * *

Timing was never a strong point for Raven, her reading of situations and what should and shouldn't be said was a failing her friends suffered diligently with. Nine out of ten times it created some sort of amusement, or even resulted in some sort of a positive outcome, for that she would not apologise. So maybe it wasn't so much of a failing as a slight social misjudgement on her part, hell she couldn't help that most of what was in her head came out in speech. If it was to speak or be spoken to Raven knows she would inevitably choose the first, with that in mind however one out of ten times it went... bad. This was one of those times.

For once she was actually around the apartment of one senior Blake, the reason being his respective housemate Miller was to be out of town for the next week. Discreet and inconspicuous was the manner in which they conducted themselves, all with what they said was the best of grounds, so the absent of others was a must.

Raven's fingers toyed apprehensively with the crisp fold of the sheet that lay upon her, passing each centimetre through her grasp pinch by pinch, before she glanced to her side. There her gaze landed on Bellamy, his face in profile she observed how ridiculously long his lashes were, posing the important question: why did men have such long eyelashes? Unfair was her immediate response. His dark curls ran wild against the stark white pillow, a few located near his temple pressed to his skin from the perspiration of their prior activities. Now wasn't the time, but before she had forethought to halt its course she found herself asking coolly,

"Can I ask you a question?" Tilting his head towards her he afforded her a view of the hidden freckles that on occasion embellished the bridge of his nose, before he decidedly replied,

"As long as it's not one of those ridiculous hypothetical ones, like... 'Would you rather have a hand for a penis or penises for hands?'" A slight snort of amusement came from Raven, a small smile curving her plump lips before she replied vibrantly,

"No it's not one of those... although that is a good one... no, umm you and Clarke were close once, right?" The instant the words fell into the room a change of atmosphere entered in full force, beside her she felt his form stiffen and recede away. She'd crossed a line, a line she had never been told was there. His voice harsh and blunt pierced the heavy tension that now hung before them, his response clear but somewhat reluctant,

"Yes." She knew that to press him for more was a risk, his defiance was a clear indicator that this was not a subject to discuss. Her memory however cast forth the image of Clarke, the melancholy that clung to her, an expression of loss somehow dulling the blue of her eyes. The weight of not knowing what happened gripped her visibly so, and as her good friend she could not bear to see her endure the pain much more. She had to find out if only to bring closure upon something that clearly haunted the pair, with that she pressed on,

"What happened there? Because I get the distinct feeling that Clarke doesn't know and since you've been the ass hole of late, I think you're the one who does." His back now faced her as he retreated to the far side of the bed, a clear message that this was a topic not to breached, like that would stop her. His retort was stern and brash, the discomfort clear in the taunt muscles of his back,

"It's got nothing to do with you." She shuffled to turn on her side, ensuring the action was exaggerated and therefore felt within the mattress they currently shared. Still met with the view of his back, she continued through gritted teeth, her tone now holding the volume of exasperation,

"So you'd rather fight with Clarke every time you're even within a yard of each other?" With that he sat up abruptly and with a violent gusto swung his legs out of the bed, perched upon the edge he started to pull on a pair of boxers. Whilst doing so he positively growled in annoyance,

"What does it matter to you?" Upon now being in some state of dress he stood, his piercing gaze fixed on her in a manner that exuded a menagerie of emotions. His low and contorted brow indicated a confusion that melded with hurt, whilst the rigid line of his pursed lips betrayed an anger and frustration that ran deep. With her forearm and hand she clutched the sheet to her chest as she squirmed to sitting, before equalling his gaze with an iron one of her own, her intent in full voice as she bellowed,

"You're my friends, that's what matters to me!" With heavy and unforgiving strides Bellamy had made his way towards the door, before he halted at the foot of the bed, his posture a vision of irritation and strain. A large exhale of breath released a stark statement, one that flaked around the edges in defeat,

"Well me and Clarke aren't friends... not anymore." His shoulders visibly slumped, his figure folded before he withdrew from the room, his words spoken and finished. Slumping back into the bed with a force that reverberated through the mattress Raven sighed in resignation; this was not how she had planned it. Not that she had planned anything but some insight would have been helpful, instead she had been met with a brick wall. **But maybe those words unsaid meant more than those spoken: Bellamy was wounded, hurt hidden behind layers of bravado and pretence.** **He cared.**


End file.
